Night Fever
by DarkPhoenixAscending
Summary: Harry/Draco slash. Ignores epilogue. A group of the returning eighth-years sneak out to a nightclub to ease the stress and boredom of studying for their NEWTs. But could a single night of partying change the way Harry and Draco feel about each other? Complete.
1. Night Fever

**Title:** Night Fever

 **Author:** Dark Phoenix

 **Summary:** A group of the returning eighth-years sneak out to a nightclub to ease the stress and boredom of studying for their NEWTs. But could a single night of partying change the way Harry and Draco feel about each other?

 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry

 **Warning:** Underage drinking (gasp! Won't someone _please_ think of the children?!)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this.

 **Notes:** Title is from a Bee Gees song, though the song doesn't have anything to do with the plot. This will have a second part, which I hope to have up by next week.

* * *

 **~ Night Fever ~  
**

"I am so freaking bored," Pansy Parkinson declared.

It was a bit frightening how one simple declaration from Pansy could set an entire chain of events in motion, but as Draco admired himself in the mirror later that night, he couldn't say he regretted it. The eighth-year students who'd returned that year had done nothing but study and get on each other's nerves since the beginning of term. Being stuck in a dorm with the rest of his year-mates had some advantages: since they were all of age and many were now war heroes, McGonagall had given them considerably more freedom, and they were allowed to go out on the weekends as long as they returned before curfew. Draco was just glad she hadn't made any distinction between those who were war heroes and those who'd found themselves on the wrong side. Eighth year was stressful enough as it was.

Draco turned in front of the mirror, admiring his body from every angle. _I really should wear jeans more often,_ he thought with satisfaction. He had to admit, Muggle clothes showed off his lean, sculpted body much better than the shapeless robes wizards typically wore. It really was a shame that his best assets so often went unappreciated in his figure-obscuring robes.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Pansy stuck her head in the room without waiting for a reply.

"Aren't you ready yet?" she complained, and Draco watched with delight as her eyes landed on him and the expression on her face changed from annoyance to lust in a split second.

Draco held back his laughter as he watched Pansy struggle to regain her composure. She crossed the room and stood next to him at the mirror, gazing back at him with an impatient look that he thought would have been more convincing if she wasn't practically salivating. "You look fine, princess," she said briskly. "Can we go now?"

"Of course, of course," he said, pleased by her reaction. "But you might want to wipe up that little bit of drool first."

Pansy smacked him, then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door. Draco let her lead him, thoroughly amused by the entire scene.

"Everyone else has been ready and waiting," she informed him pointedly as they made their way down to the common room. As if to prove her point, everyone in the common room stood and headed for the door the moment Pansy and Draco entered the room.

"Where did you say we were going again?" one of the Ravenclaws asked as they hurried down the hall. It was already getting close to curfew, and they didn't want to get stopped before they had a chance to leave. So far, nobody had mentioned how they would be getting back _in,_ but since the next day was a Saturday, none of them were too concerned.

"We're going to a Muggle club," said Blaise Zabini. "A place called _Night Fever,_ I think?" He looked back at Pansy questioningly.

"That's right," said Pansy, unable to hide her excitement. "I went there a few times over the summer. It's really fun, you'll love it."

Chattering away excitedly, the group made their way past the gates of Hogwarts to the Apparition point. It was an oddly mixed group, consisting of eighth-year students from each House, including several Gryffindors. Draco hadn't been too surprised that Seamus Finnigan had wanted to come and insisted on bringing along his best friend Dean Thomas (though Draco had his suspicions about their "friendship"). But he hadn't counted on Harry Potter wanting to join them as well.

 _It'll probably do him some good to get out and let loose for once,_ Draco thought. _Besides, he's probably as sick of seeing Granger and Weasley slobbering all over each other as the rest of us._ A rather giddy feeling was starting to rise in him as they neared the Apparition point, and he had to admit that sneaking out to a club really was a great idea, even if they _did_ get in trouble later. After so many long weeks of studying, he was looking forward to a night out. He turned on the spot, eagerly anticipating the few hours of fun ahead of them.

* * *

Harry really didn't know why he'd gone along with the others. He'd never been clubbing before, and he didn't think it was a particularly wise move going out and getting drunk with a bunch of Slytherins. In fact, Parkinson's suggestion had come as quite a surprise — he wouldn't have expected the Slytherins to even know what a club was in the first place. He'd been even more suprised to see them all clustered around the common room in regular Muggle clothes, as if they'd done this countless times before. And seeing Malfoy in jeans, somehow managing to look effortlessly stylish and casual at the same time, the way he always did, must have been the last straw for Harry's poor, unsuspecting brain. Because there _must_ have been something wrong with his brain, otherwise he couldn't imagine how else he could've actually gone through with this. Sure, Dean and Seamus were there, but overall, he was feeling more nervous than excited about the whole thing.

 _It's not like you had anything better to do,_ he reminded himself. He had to admit that was true. There were papers to write and chapters to read, but it seemed like those things would always be there no matter what, and he was _so_ tired of doing homework. Hermione had been freaking out over the N.E.W.T.s just as he'd expected, and spent most of her time nagging him and Ron to study. That was, when she and Ron weren't snogging. Harry shook his head. He was sincerely happy for his friends, but sometimes he wished they would get a room. Maybe he was just lonely, he thought. After all, nothing had happened between him and Ginny since the war ended, even though everyone expected them to get back together. He couldn't seem to explain to everyone — or even to himself — why they hadn't. Hell, he could hardly bring himself to even _think_ about it, after everything that had happened. It was all just too much to deal with.

 _And that's why you're doing this,_ he reminded himself. _Because you need a break from all this before the stress eats you alive._ He knew that was true, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he was going about it the right way.

 _You're just thinking too much,_ he thought decisively. _Once you've had a few drinks and start to relax, you'll see that this really_ is _a good idea._

With that, Harry resolved to stop arguing with himself and start enjoying his night instead. Determined to make the most of it, he saw the nightclub come into view just as a flash of blond hair up ahead caught his eye for the hundredth time that night. Harry gave himself a mental shake. Why did he keep staring at Malfoy? He didn't really look _that_ different since he'd let his hair grow out, although since he kept it pulled back most of the time, Harry hadn't really noticed just how long it was. Now, however, with Draco's hair falling loosely about his face like a silky, blond mane, Harry couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him. _And since when is he_ Draco _?_ he asked himself sternly. He gave himself another shake. He was _not_ going to spend the night thinking about Draco Malfoy.

"Here we are!" Parkinson called out gaily as the group approached the club. "Who's ready to party?"

 _I am,_ Harry thought with determination, trying to psych himself up. _Let's do this!_

* * *

Draco strode across the parking lot with the others until they reached a door with a line of people waiting to be let in by a large, intimidating bouncer in a dark T-shirt. Blaise, who had a Ravenclaw girl on each arm, was one of the first to reach the door. The bouncer moved the velvet rope aside to let them through without a second glance. But when the rest of them approached the door, he simply stood there, motionless.

"What now?" he heard one of the Hufflepuffs ask Pansy. "He won't let us in."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "He's only supposed to let the cool people in," she explained, as if talking to a four-year-old. "Obviously you're not cool enough. You have to get someone who _is_ cool to let you come in with them."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now? Zabini should've told the bouncer we were with him."

More grumbling followed this, and Draco pushed his way through the crowd to the door. "I don't have time for this," he said impatiently, walking right up to the bouncer, who immediately moved the rope aside to let him pass.

Draco stepped past him, then stopped as he heard the rope fall back into place behind him. He turned and looked up at the bouncer with big eyes. "Aren't you going to let my friends in?" he said innocently.

The bouncer glanced briefly over their group. "You have an awful lot of friends," he said gruffly, but Draco could tell he was beginning to crumble. He'd always had a knack for knowing which people could be wrapped around his little finger, and the bouncer, for all his gruffness, was one of them.

Draco twirled a lock of hair around his finger, still gazing coyly up at the bouncer. "Well, you don't want me to get lonely, do you?"

He could see the bouncer struggling with himself for a moment before barking out, "Fine, go ahead, now hurry up before I change my mind."

Draco stepped back and let the others enter the club before him, feeling smug. Potter was the last in line, but before he could walk past, Draco quickly blurted out, "Wait, I don't know him."

Whether it was because of the astonished look on Potter's face or the smirk on Draco's, the bouncer didn't believe him. With a slight smirk of his own, he waved Potter past.

"Oh, that's all right, he can go in," he said, clearly relishing Draco's look of shock. "Besides," he added conspiratorially, "you don't really want to make your boyfriend stand outside all night over some silly lover's spat. You'll regret it later, trust me."

Draco was too dumbfounded by what he was hearing to respond. Potter's face registered his surprise as well, but he got over it much more quickly. Before Draco knew what was happening, Potter had slipped an arm around his waist and was ushering him inside. "Come on, babe," he was saying. "Isn't it about time for you to bury the hatchet?" And as the door closed behind them, Draco could swear he saw Potter wink at the smirking bouncer.

Utterly bewildered, Draco let Potter lead him into the club, very aware of the arm wrapped tightly around his waist. His face was burning, and his skin tingled where Potter's arm was touching him. As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit club and he caught up with the others, his wits returned to him. He wrenched himself out of Potter's grasp, hoping the lights were dim enough to hide the color in his face.

"I suppose you thought you were being clever," he said in his usual drawl.

Potter grinned at him. "No cleverer than _you,_ I'm sure."

Draco gave a small, involuntary shudder. "Whatever, Potter," he snapped, whirling around and striding purposefully towards the bar. "I need a drink."

He came up behind a surprised-looking Pansy and ordered a drink, scanning the dance floor below. The last few minutes had left him feeling completely unsettled, and he wanted to make that feeling go away as quickly as possible. He was here to have fun and relax. Tossing back his drink in one gulp, he headed out to the dance floor. The night was still young, he thought. Plenty of time for things to get better. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he saw that Pansy had followed him. Smiling, he took her hand and spun her around the dance floor. As the music washed over him, he felt the sense of release he'd been looking for and let himself get caught up in the moment. It seemed like this was going to be a good night after all.

* * *

Harry sat at the bar next to Dean, slowly sipping his beer. He was beginning to enjoy himself, although that scene with Malfoy kept trying to creep back into his brain. It was strange — he'd just wanted to pay Malfoy back for trying to ditch him, but then things had gotten a bit weird. He could almost still feel Malfoy's slim body against his arm, rather tense and much warmer than he would've expected. Harry was surprised at himself for having thrown his arm around his old rival like that. What had come over him? Part of it had been a reaction to the bouncer's comment, and he wondered what had given him the impression they were a couple. Was it something he'd said or done, or something Malfoy had said or done? But he couldn't think of anything about either of them that would make someone think they were . . . he didn't even want to think the word.

With a shudder, he turned to where Dean was enthusiastically explaining football to Seamus, with the help of a game playing on a nearby TV.

Harry smiled to himself and tried to get into the game, but before long, he found his eyes wandering over to the dance floor. He found Malfoy without even trying; his bright hair stood out like a beacon. Malfoy was dancing by himself, and even from his seat at the bar, Harry could see the appreciative looks cast in his direction as he danced. And it was no surprise — he was an incredible dancer. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved, his hips swaying to the beat and his hair flying. The bright, colored lights shining down on him were more pure and intense against his white-blond hair than anyone else's. Harry stared, transfixed. He had never seen Malfoy like this before, hadn't even known this side of him existed. There was something so free about him out there on the dance floor, and it was utterly captivating.

Harry gave a sudden jerk as he realized the direction his thoughts had taken. _Merlin, how much have I had to drink?_ he wondered, setting his half-finished beer on the bar next to him. He turned back to his friends, meaning to involve himself in their conversation, but the way they were smiling at each other made him pause, feeling as much like a third wheel as he'd been feeling around Ron and Hermione.

 _Dean and Seamus?_ It seemed to be about the only coherent thought in his head at the moment. Harry looked up at the TV with a frown. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

* * *

The song was ending, and Draco slowed his movements, taking the opportunity to peek over at the bar where Potter had been staring at him for quite some time.

Potter had his eyes glued to the TV as if it was a lifeline. A slight frown crossed Draco's face at the sight. _Now, that won't do at all,_ he thought decisively. Draco really didn't know what he was doing, but now that he'd finally gotten Potter's attention, he wasn't about to let it get away that easily. He quickly scanned the dance floor. There were already plenty of Muggles casting longing looks in his direction. Draco caught the gaze of a particularly attractive young man and sent a seductive smile his way as the music started to pick up again. He could practically _see_ the Muggle boy gulp in surprise before making his way over to Draco.

 _This is just too easy,_ Draco thought smugly. _How do you like_ that, _Potter?_

* * *

Almost against his will, Harry's eyes wandered back to the dance floor, where Malfoy was now dancing with some Muggle boy. Harry felt an unexpected surge of irritation at the sight.

 _Whatever,_ he thought, rolling his eyes. _What do I care if Malfoy wants to make a fool of himself with some Muggle?_ He pointedly turned back to the TV, not stopping to wonder just who he was trying to convince.

Harry tried to concentrate on the game, but his eyes kept drifting back. There wasn't an inch of space between the two boys, he thought with disgust. The Muggle boy kept putting his hands all over Malfoy, and Malfoy was just giggling — _giggling!_ — and letting him do it. Harry shook his head, wondering just when he had entered the Twilight Zone. _This was a mistake,_ he thought, glaring over at the TV. He noticed distractedly that Dean and Seamus had left, but he had no idea where they'd gone or when.

A nearby giggle got his attention, and he turned back around to see Malfoy ordering a drink. He was grinning broadly, his face flushed with exertion, and he didn't appear to notice Harry sitting right there.

"I need a break," he was saying animatedly to the bartender, fanning his face with his hand. "I'm getting thirsty from all that dancing!"

"I don't think more alcohol is going to help," Harry heard himself saying dryly.

Malfoy turned to Harry in surprise, still smiling. "Harry!" he exclaimed as if they were best friends. "Have you been sitting there all night? Why don't you get out there and have fun?"

For a moment, Harry could only stare at him in shock. What had _happened_ to the Malfoy he knew and loathed? The entire night seemed to be made up of a series of shocks — seeing Malfoy flirting shamelessly with the bouncer, watching him dance with absolutely no inhibition, _smiling,_ and now this. It was almost more than he could take.

"Come dance with me," Malfoy was saying now, tugging on Harry's arm. "Come on, you need to loosen up for once."

"What?" Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Malfoy, one of the most uptight people he knew, was telling him he needed to loosen up, and had he actually asked Harry to dance with him? Harry thought he had.

"Dance with me," Malfoy repeated, still tugging on his arm, and somehow, Harry found himself standing up and allowing Malfoy to lead him onto the dance floor.

"But I don't dance," Harry protested feebly. Another song was starting, and Malfoy was beginning to move to the music, pulling Harry closer to himself as he did.

"You don't have to know how to dance," said Malfoy, slipping his arm around Harry's waist and gently leading him. "Just move your body to the beat." He started to sway his hips, and Harry, who seemed to be at a complete loss at the moment, began to move along with him, a bit awkwardly.

"That's good," said Malfoy, moving in closer to Harry. "Just relax. This is supposed to be fun."

It was almost as if Malfoy was speaking a foreign language. Nothing about this made any sense to Harry. How was this supposed to be _fun_ when he could hardly think straight? He wanted to say that he felt horribly uncomfortable with Malfoy pressed against him like that, practically grinding on him, but that wasn't entirely true. If anything, Harry was beginning to feel a little turned on. In fact, if Malfoy didn't stop soon, it was going to become obvious.

He spun around so that his back was to Malfoy, and danced for the rest of the song in that new and much safer position. Malfoy seemed to back off a bit, allowing a little more space between them as they danced. When the song ended and a faster one started, Harry turned around again. He didn't miss the slight smirk on Malfoy's face.

"You know, if you'd let yourself relax, you'd enjoy yourself much more," Malfoy said over the music.

"Maybe I'm not enjoying myself because I'm dancing with _you,_ " Harry retorted.

Malfoy's eyes gleamed. "Or maybe you _are_ enjoying yourself . . . a bit too much."

Harry blushed and gaped at Malfoy. How could he possibly have known the effect he'd had on Harry? After all, Harry had turned around before his body had had a chance to betray him. He collected himself quickly, but Malfoy's triumphant smirk told him he hadn't been quick enough. Harry braced himself for mockery, but Malfoy seemed content just to keep dancing for the moment. Unfortunately, when the song ended and a slow one began, he didn't miss the victorious gleam in Malfoy's eyes before the blond pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Harry almost seductively.

Almost against his will, he found himself moving slowly to the beat, pressed close, almost _melting_ against Malfoy's body. _This is a really bad idea,_ he thought. _We've both obviously had too much to drink. If he still remembers this tomorrow morning, he's going to be livid._ He didn't dare look back over at the bar, where he knew some of their classmates must be staring at them in shock right now. And he tried not to think that Malfoy wouldn't even have to remember; someone else would surely mention it. This was the kind of thing they weren't going to live down for the rest of the year.

But as logical as this argument was, Harry had to admit Malfoy was right. He _was_ enjoying himself, and he really, really didn't want to stop dancing right now.

 _I must be drunker than I realize,_ he thought. All he wanted to do at the moment was dance with Malfoy. And maybe put his head on Malfoy's shoulder. And maybe caress his back, hands gliding freely over his thin shirt, and perhaps even slipping under it to feel his smooth skin.

"I knew you were enjoying yourself." Malfoy's lips were just touching Harry's ear as he spoke, sending shivers down his spine.

Harry couldn't bring himself to reply. He felt that anything he said right now would break the spell.

"I knew you felt it, too," Malfoy continued, and Harry realized they'd moved past the edge of the dance floor and into a dark corner away from the spotlight and prying eyes. "It wasn't just me all this time."

Harry raised his head and tilted it back so he could look into Malfoy's eyes. "Felt what?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Malfoy's eyes were intensely focused on his with something he'd never seen in them before — or had he? On some level, Harry thought they'd been looking at each other this way for years.

"Whatever it is between us," Malfoy said, whispering now, but close enough that Harry could still hear him. "You know what I'm talking about. I've seen the way you look at me, especially in sixth year."

And Harry _did_ know what he was talking about. The way he'd obsessed over Malfoy in sixth year . . . it couldn't have just been because he thought the other boy was up to something. For the first time since they'd met, Malfoy had been ignoring him. And Harry couldn't stand it.

They had stopped dancing. Harry wasn't even sure the music was still playing. They simply stood there, staring into each other's eyes with that undeniable intensity. He sensed that they were moving towards each other, but it didn't quite register until their lips met in a sweet and searing kiss.

He wasn't as shocked at what he was doing as he would've expected, too caught up in the sensations to care. The sparks that had always flickered between them suddenly burst into flame, and Malfoy's lips burned against his as Harry let himself be consumed.

 _Why didn't we do this years ago instead of wasting all our time on that petty rivalry?_ Harry wondered. It all seemed so obvious now that the whole thing was just a front. Malfoy felt so warm and eager against him, so at odds with his icy exterior. His lips were sweet from whatever he'd been drinking earlier, and they moved against Harry's with a combination of passion and unexpected gentleness that made his head swim and left him desperate for more. Harry sighed, letting his hands wander. Malfoy's skin was soft and silky, almost like a girl's but beneath it, his body was all sharp angles and hard muscle. It was an unusual combination, but not unpleasant. As Malfoy began trailing kisses down the side of Harry's neck, that voice in his head telling him that this was a bad idea started up again, but he ignored it. Yes, they were both drunk and would regret this later, but right then, it just felt too good to stop. Besides, they weren't doing anything but kissing. He wouldn't let it get any further than that. And since they were already going to regret it later, they might as well make it worthwhile, he reasoned. With that final thought, he once again lost himself in the moment, snogging Malfoy in a dark corner of some Muggle club like there was no tomorrow.

* * *

Draco was in heaven. He wasn't sure how he'd actually managed to do it, but he'd finally, _finally,_ gotten Potter's attention, and now things had changed between them in a way he'd only dreamed about.

 _It's just because he's drunk,_ the practical side of him warned, but Draco didn't think that Potter _was_ all that drunk. He certainly seemed to be in control of _most_ of his actions. Though Draco had to admit, it was incredibly gratifying the way Potter had suddenly turned away from him while they were dancing so suggestively. He was also grateful that Potter had been the first one to move, before Draco's body had a chance to respond to the situation. After all, the boy who'd been such a huge source of aggravation for so long didn't need to know just how much of an effect he'd had on Draco.

He let his hands roam over Potter's body as they kissed, delighting in the warmth and strength radiating from the other boy. Potter was an even better kisser than he'd expected. His sheer passion more than made up for any awkwardness in his technique. Draco shivered as Potter's hands crept under his shirt, caressing his bare skin.

It was so easy to get lost in the moment that he didn't realize they weren't alone until he heard someone loudly clear their throat very close by. He looked up in surprise to see Pansy watching them in amusement.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, sounding anything but. "But it's getting late and everyone else is leaving."

Draco disentangled himself from Potter reluctantly. He wasn't particularly bothered at being caught by Pansy, and Potter didn't seem overly concerned, either. "So what's the plan, then?" he asked. "Are we all going to try to sneak back into Hogwarts, or did you have something else in mind?"

Pansy shook her head. "There are a few Muggle hotels in the area. I called a cab to come pick us up, since you two are almost certainly too drunk to Apparate."

Draco hated to leave the warmth and comfort of Potter's arms, but he had to admit he was getting tired, and it was probably time to go. "What would I do without you?" he said, giving Pansy his most charming smile.

She sniffed. "Continue making an fool of yourself in a public place, most likely," she said before turning to lead the way back outside.

Draco slipped an arm around Potter's waist and kissed his neck briefly. "We'd better go, then. She's not going to wait too long for us," he said.

Draco sighed contentedly as he led Potter out of the club. Going to a hotel was a great idea, he thought. He'd have to remember to thank Pansy later. Now he and Potter could finish what they'd started in private. It would be the perfect ending to a perfect night.

* * *

Harry thought he was beginning to sober up as he stepped out of the club. There was a distinct chill in the air now, and a small group of eighth years standing around waiting for cabs, and the combination made him feel more sober still. He was aware of Draco's hand resting comfortably in the back pocket of his jeans, and his own hand in Draco's. Even from a distance, he could see the curious looks the others were sending in his direction, but Draco seemed blissfully oblivious. As they approached, Harry managed to detach himself as tactfully as possible, but he could still see the other students staring and whispering, and the puppy-dog eyes Draco was giving him didn't help matters. He was relieved when he finally caught sight of the cab approaching.

Draco immediately headed for the cab, pulling Harry along with him.

"Wait, we're not all going to fit in there," Harry said, looking around at the group.

"That's okay, you can sit in my lap," Draco purred, pulling Harry the rest of the way into the cab with an ease that belied his drunken state. He slid his hands around Harry's waist and started to nuzzle his neck.

"Nobody is sitting in anyone's lap," Parkinson stated firmly, and Draco reluctantly allowed Harry to slide off his lap, although he kept one arm around his waist. Harry heard Parkinson sigh. "Okay, someone's going to have to ride in the back with the lovebirds," he heard her say, and he was glad he couldn't see the looks on the others' faces, although he could hear some snickering.

Harry was beginning to feel very conflicted. On one hand, he knew that he and Draco were providing the others with enough juicy gossip to last the rest of the school year, but he was also quite enjoying the way Draco was currently nibbling on his earlobe, and he really didn't want him to stop. He allowed himself to get caught up in Draco's kisses, barely noticing when someone climbed into the backseat next to them and the cab left for the hotel.

Harry had no idea how long a drive it was to the hotel. Draco kept him occupied the entire time, and Harry couldn't say he minded. It seemed his old rival could do some brilliant things with his tongue besides making cutting remarks. Draco's hands roamed freely over his body, and Harry let his do the same. Harry kissed his way down the side of Draco's neck, enjoying the soft whimpers he made, and Draco's hands slid down to his arse and gave it a firm squeeze, uncaring of who might be watching.

When they finally arrived, Harry thought he'd have another challenge trying to get Draco out of the cab, as absorbed in snogging Harry as he was, but to his surprise, Draco jumped out right away and hurried up to the front desk, still pulling Harry along with him. Once they had their room key, Draco practically ran to their room, stopping only to thoroughly snog Harry on the elevator ride up.

"Finally," Draco moaned breathlessly as they burst into their room and kicked the door shut behind them.

The sound of the door seemed to bring Harry out of his lustful haze. Was he really alone in a hotel room with Draco Malfoy, about to take advantage of his drunkenness?

"Draco. _Draco._ " Harry finally brought his hands up to Draco's shoulders and held him at arms length so he could look him in the face. "Don't you think we're moving a little fast?"

Amazingly, Draco smirked back at him. "What's wrong, Potter? I thought you Gryffindors lived for moving too fast."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously still calling me Potter after everything that's happened tonight?"

Draco only grinned at him in a way that immediately made Harry feel suspicious. "Is that what's bothering you . . . _Harry?_ " The way he said Harry's name sent shivers down his spine and made him strongly reconsider not allowing Draco to drag him over to the bed and shag him senseless. He could feel his traitorous body react immediately, and the gleam in Draco's eye told him the blond Slytherin was well aware of the effect that one simple word had on Harry.

Somehow, Draco had closed the distance between them again without Harry being aware of it. Harry heard a soft chuckle. "Well, _Harry,_ if I'd known how you would react to me saying your name, I would've done this ages ago. _Harry._ "

 _He's pure evil,_ Harry thought deliriously as Draco's lips found his once more before he lowered Harry down onto the bed, gently now, taking his time. Against his better judgment, Harry returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to pull Draco's body even closer against his own.

Draco sighed contentedly. "Mmmm, Harry, you taste so good," he murmured directly in Harry's ear, slowly tracing the edge of it with his tongue until Harry thought he would go insane. "I've been wanting to do this for so long."

Harry started slightly at his words. Had Draco been _pining_ for him all this time? Draco noticed his reaction and leaned back to face him with a slight frown. "What's wrong?"

Here was the opportunity Harry had been looking for. "Is this really how you wanted it?" he asked. "When we're both too drunk to remember it tomorrow morning?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, you really are too much of a goody-goody for your own good." He thought about what he'd just said and began to giggle. "Too goody-goody for your own good," he repeated, giggling even harder.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Harry retorted, feeling smug. "You're obviously wasted. If this really is something you've wanted for 'so long,' do you really want it to turn out to be a drunken mistake?"

"But it doesn't have to be like that," Draco cajoled. "Do you really want to tell me that _this_ doesn't feel good?" He pressed his lips to the base of Harry's throat and began to work his way down, unbuttoning Harry's shirt as he went. Harry groaned. He should've known that Draco wasn't going to make it easy for him. Draco smirked victoriously against Harry's skin just before swirling his tongue over Harry's right nipple in a way that made him gasp and let out a helpless whimper of ecstasy before he could stop himself.

Somehow, he managed to bring his hands up to Draco's bare shoulders (and when had Draco lost his shirt? Harry honestly couldn't remember) and gently push him away. "Draco, I mean it," he said. "This might feel good right now, but how good do you think you're going to feel tomorrow when you realize what's happened?"

Draco rolled his eyes again, but this time there was a sense of real anger in his expression. "Whatever, Potter," he snapped, pulling away and standing up. "I think the real problem is you're too _afraid._ Some Gryffindor you are. What's the matter — didn't the Weaselette ever make a man out of you?"

Harry jerked away as if he'd been burned, but Draco had already stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He lay back down on the bed in shock. What the hell had just happened?

He lay there for some time, unsure of what to do, but Draco had apparently decided to spend the night in the bathroom. Somehow, Harry managed to fall asleep.

Sometime later that night, Harry was awoken by Draco crawling back into the bed. Harry raised his head in sleepy confusion. "I'm sorry," said Draco. "That was out of line — I didn't mean it." Still half asleep, Harry could only stare blearily at the dark shape that was Draco. He didn't think he'd ever heard Draco Malfoy apologize for anything in his life. Finally, Harry's exhausted, overtaxed brain couldn't take any more, and he fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake again until morning.

* * *

Thanks for reading and/or reviewing!


	2. The Morning After

**~ The Morning After ~**

Draco squinted in the bright sunlight. His head was throbbing mercilessly, and the brightness in the room managed to make it even worse. _How much did I have to drink last night?_ he wondered. He realized belatedly that he was in a strange bed . . . and that he wasn't alone. A mess of dark hair lay on the pillow next to his, and his arm was curled around the other man's waist, casually spooning him.

His heart began to speed up as he realized that the messy hair in front of him could only belong to one person. Potter. He'd gotten drunk and ended up in bed with Potter. Draco buried his face in the pillow, groaning inwardly. _What the hell did I do?_ He must have made an absolute fool of himself at the club, and surely everyone must know about the feelings he'd been having for Potter recently. _Why_ had he thought going to a club with a bunch of students from other Houses was a good idea? Now that he thought about it, it had been Pansy's idea, and Pansy's ideas always meant trouble.

The logical part of his brain was finally beginning to catch up. If he was in bed with Potter, then what did that mean? Even if he'd made a fool of himself, Potter had still agreed to share a bed with him. So maybe things weren't _that_ bad. Draco realized that he also still had his jeans on, further increasing his confusion. _If I'm still dressed, then what the hell did we_ do _last night?_

Draco tried to will himself to calm down and think reasonably. He and Potter were in bed together, and they still had their clothes on. At least, he _hoped_ Potter had something on under the blankets. So whatever had happened couldn't have been that bad. Maybe — just _maybe_ — Potter even felt the same way? Without thinking, he snuggled closer against Potter, inhaling his scent. A sudden wave of boldness overtook him, and he softly pressed his lips to the back of Potter's neck.

Potter stirred beneath him, and Draco froze in horror. Had Potter felt Draco's kiss? He wanted to take his arm back, move away, and pretend to be asleep, but there was no way he could do that without Potter noticing, if he was awake. Draco closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, hoping that Potter would go back to sleep and not make a big deal out of it.

Naturally, Potter had other ideas. He stretched, letting out a sleepy groan, and rolled over to face Draco. Draco's arm was still around his waist, and now that Potter was facing him, they seemed incredibly close. Potter smiled lazily at him.

"Morning," was all he said.

A million thoughts flew through Draco's head. Was that really _all_ Potter was going to say upon waking up to find himself in bed with Draco? What the hell _had_ happened last night? Did Potter know something he didn't?

" _Morning?_ " he returned, raising an eyebrow.

Potter was still smiling at him, as if he hadn't heard the incredulity in Draco's voice. But now Draco thought he detected a hint of some other emotion in his face, something like wariness, hidden just below the surface.

"Did you sleep well?" Potter asked him now.

Draco was beginning to feel like the butt of some elaborate joke, but he went along with it, afraid he would shatter the illusion by questioning it. After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure he could handle that. Not now, after he had only just woken up.

"Yes," he answered cautiously. "You?"

Potter's grin widened. "Like a baby," he said, and Draco didn't think he was imagining the relief in Potter's eyes.

Draco nodded rather dumbly. "Right," he said, for lack of anything else. He was beginning to feel painfully aware of just how grungy he was. His mouth tasted like he'd spent the night chewing on an old gym sock. "I'm going to go take a shower," he said, sliding out of the bed and hurrying from the room. It was almost a form of torture to leave the pleasant warmth of the bed and Potter, but he didn't think his brain could take much more of the strangeness of the whole situation. He tried to tell himself it wasn't a retreat.

He didn't believe himself for a second.

* * *

Harry watched Draco retreat into the bathroom with some bemusement. Waking up next to Draco had been a bit of a shock, but he still remembered enough of what had happened last night to dull it somewhat. What had worried him the most had been that he had no idea how _Draco_ would act once he realized they'd shared a bed. And then he'd felt the distinct pressure of Draco's lips on the back of his neck, and immediately relaxed.

 _Does he remember what happened last night?_ Harry wondered as the shower turned on in the bathroom. He'd been relieved when Draco hadn't immediately freaked out, but the incredulity and confusion in his face had been unmistakeable. Harry didn't really know what had possessed him to act so cheerful, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but he knew that he hadn't wanted Draco to think he'd regretted anything from the night before.

He also hadn't missed the distinct tearstains on Draco's face that made him wonder how long he'd spent crying in the bathroom before coming back to bed. It surprised him that Draco had gotten so upset just because Harry had refused to sleep with him. Did he think it was a rejection? His words kept coming back to Harry against his will. _"I've been wanting to do this for so long."_ What did he mean by that? Just how long had Draco had those feelings for Harry? Had Harry really been so oblivious to it all this time?

All these questions were hurting his brain, or maybe he was just hungover from the night before. Either way, he knew he would have to have a serious talk with Draco once he got out of the shower.

Harry stumbled out of the bed and reached for his jeans, which were slung over the back of a chair. He vaguely remembered taking them off sometime after Draco had left so that he could sleep more comfortably.

A loud pounding on the door caused Harry to trip over the jeans as he was pulling them on. He stood up, cursing, and finished dressing before heading over to the door.

"Good, you're up," Parkinson said crisply, pushing past him into the room. "Where's Draco?" She looked around suspiciously, somehow oblivious to the sound of the shower running.

Harry nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom. "In the shower." A funny expression crossed Parkinson's face, like a combination of surprise and amusement, but it was gone so quickly Harry wasn't quite sure he hadn't imagined it or what it even meant. He hoped she wasn't planning to wait for Draco to come out. They needed to talk about what had happened, and Harry really didn't want her hanging around for that. It was going to be difficult enough as it was.

Fortunately, she turned back to the door as if to leave. "We need to be out of here by ten or we'll have to pay for another night," she said. Harry glanced over at the clock next to his bed. It was already 9:15. When he turned back to Parkinson, she was already on her way out the door.

Harry sank down in one of the chairs, cursing again. He didn't know how long Draco would be in the shower, but it was starting to look like they wouldn't have time for much of a discussion after all.

* * *

Draco stepped out of the shower, feeling much more clear-headed than when he'd stepped into it. He cast a quick Tempus charm and hurriedly got dressed. Potter had yelled at him to hurry up at some point, and Draco was in a good enough mood to oblige him.

He was a bit nervous about how the other students were going to act. Surely some of them had noticed that he and Potter had shared a hotel room, and Draco suspected that that wasn't _all_ they'd noticed. Sighing, he left the bathroom, allowing Potter to hurry past him for his own shower, with barely a word in passing.

Draco sank down on the bed, growing increasingly agitated. He didn't know what to do with himself while he waited for Potter, and the thought of facing the other students after last night was becoming less and less appealing. Flipping on the television, more for something to do than anything else, he tried to distract himself from his nerves while he waited.

After what seemed both like an eternity and far too short a time, Potter emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. They both stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

Potter was the first to move. "Come on," he said. "Parkinson said we have to be out of here by ten if we don't want to get charged for another night."

"What's the rush, then?" Draco heard himself say. "Why not just stay another night and . . . finish what we started?" Even as he said the words, something inside him recoiled from the idea. As much as he _wanted_ to spend the night with Potter, he knew it wouldn't be that simple. Anything they might have done last night could easily be brushed off as a drunken mistake. But now that they were both sober, spending another night together would have a much greater meaning, and Draco wasn't sure he wanted to take that step just yet. Just the idea of it filled him with a completely different kind of nervousness.

Potter was looking at him as though trying to find just the right words. "We'll have to face the others eventually," he said. "Putting it off will just make it that much harder, and give them even more to talk about."

Draco was beginning to miss the days when Potter had been hopelessly oblivious to everything around him. But before he could say anything, someone started pounding on the door, and Pansy's voice yelled, "Come on, lovebirds, get a move on! Stop manhandling each other long enough to sign out — you'll have the whole rest of the day for that!"

Draco started to laugh as Potter buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. "Subtlety has never been her strong point," he said fondly. Pulling Potter's hand away from his face, he led him towards the door. "I guess we should get out of here, then."

They stepped out of the room just as Pansy was raising her fist to continue banging on the door. "Oh, hey, Pans," Draco greeted her innocently. "Didn't see you there."

"It's time to _go_ ," she replied. "Everyone else has left already. Maybe if you had showered together, you wouldn't have taken so long."

Potter groaned, blushing, but Draco simply smirked and said, "How do you know we didn't?"

"Ugh, spare me the details," said Pansy. She turned and marched down the hall, but Draco had caught a slight glimmer in her eyes that told him she was actually very interested in the details. Amused, he hurried after her alongside Potter.

When they entered the main lobby, he saw that not everyone _had_ left already. Two remaining Hufflepuffs both stood and burst into loud applause as Draco and Potter entered the room, and Draco could see Potter ducking his head in embarrassment once again. With a grin, he slid an arm around Potter's waist, pulling him close, and kissed his stubbly cheek.

"Might as well give them what they want," he murmured before pulling away, delighting in the furious blush that rose in Potter's face once again. He stepped up to the front desk to turn in their key, already feeling much of the tension leave his body. Just knowing that Potter was suffering through the school's reaction right alongside him would make everything better.

* * *

The closer they got to the Apparition point, the more Harry could feel the brave front he'd put on for Draco's sake slipping away. Part of him was glad that Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott had already had a good chuckle at their expense. If they could only deal with the rest of the school one or two at a time, it would be much easier, but he knew that would be impossible.

 _After all this time, you'd think I'd be used to the gossip,_ he thought wryly. And people had certainly said much worse things about him over the years. But apparently, it hadn't gotten any easier. The thought of Ron and Hermione's reactions to the news had also begun to fill him with dread, and he wondered if there was any way he could explain things to them without either of them freaking out.

All too soon, they had arrived in Hogsmeade, and suddenly he was alone with Draco and Parkinson at the edge of the quiet town with nothing left to do but walk the rest of the way back to Hogwarts. They started off, the two Slytherins chattering away while Harry lagged behind. Part of him wanted to hide out in Hogsmeade for a bit. It would look weird for him to be coming back to the castle with his sworn enemies, but the thought of walking through the halls completely alone was even less appealing.

He felt Draco slipping a hand in his and looked up questioningly. Draco smirked at his confusion. "What's wrong, baby?" he purred. "Don't you want to parade around with me in front of the entire school?" He lay his head on Harry's shoulder and gazed up at him, batting his eyes.

Harry couldn't suppress a groan, not even with Parkinson standing there grinning. "I really just want to get back to our dorm unnoticed," he said. "But that's probably too much to ask for after constantly being at each other's throats for the past seven years."

Beside him, Parkinson gave a dainty little cough that sounded suspiciously like the words "sexual tension." Harry frowned at her, but she merely smirked back, looking entirely too knowing and amused for his liking.

Draco let go of Harry and shoved him playfully. "Come on, Potter. I thought you Gryffindorks were supposed to be _brave._ "

Harry closed his eyes. Why was Draco so cheerful about the whole thing now when he'd been so worried earlier? He was definitely enjoying Harry's discomfort way too much. "Let's see how brave _you_ are when Ron finds out about last night and hexes you into oblivion," he grumbled. "You know he'll probably think you did something underhanded, like slip me a love potion or something."

Draco scoffed, still unfazed. "I've already accepted the fact that Ron Weasley will never be my friend, much less approve of anything I do," he said breezily. "Even if nothing had happened last night, he'd still find some reason to judge me. It's just the way it is."

"Well, we're here," Harry said as they made their way up the steps of the castle. "So I guess we'll see just how unaffected you are soon enough." He was pleasantly surprised by Draco's attitude, but he was still amused to see him swallow hard and pale slightly as they stepped through the doors of Hogwarts.

Surprisingly, the walk back to their dormitory was relatively uneventful, although Harry did notice a few curious looks in their direction. He wasn't sure if it was because they'd heard any rumors, or simply because of who he was with. Thankfully, Draco behaved himself once they got inside the castle, although Harry figured it was because he didn't actually want to call any more attention to himself than necessary.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when they finally made it back to the eighth-year dormitory. He could see some of his fellow eighth-years smirking at him as he crossed the common room, but did his best to ignore it. All he wanted was to change out of last night's clothes and get back to studying. And with any luck, talk to Ron and Hermione himself before they heard too much gossip.

He reentered the common room a while later, feeling much fresher after a quick shave and change of clothes. With his schoolbag in hand, he was about to sit down and tackle his homework when Ron's voice met his ears, loud and furious.

"Harry, what the hell did you _do_ last night?"

Harry cursed inwardly. Apparently, he hadn't returned to the castle fast enough. He turned to where Ron was standing nearby, fixing Harry with a look that could only be described as betrayed. Beside him, Hermione was looking back and forth between them with a conflicted expression on her face.

Harry took a long, steadying breath. "Ron—"

"Why is everyone saying you—" Ron's face contorted with disgust, and he seemed to be having trouble getting the next words out. "— _Shagged_ Draco freaking Malfoy?!"

Harry was aware that they had the attention of everyone in the room, and he tried to remain calm. He saw Hermione lay a hand on Ron's arm. "Ron, let him tell his side of it," she said, but the look she gave Harry told him he'd better have a hell of a good answer.

For some reason, their reaction irritated him. Of course, he didn't expect them to be _thrilled,_ but at the same time, it really was none of their business who he chose to share a bed with, even if it _was_ Draco. At that moment, he caught sight of Draco himself sitting across the room, hiding behind a large textbook and looking as though he wanted the couch he was sitting on to swallow him up. The sight only increased Harry's irritation.

"What if I did, Ron?" he returned, holding his ground and glaring back at his best friends. He flung his arms out in frustration. "You got a problem with that?"

The expression on Ron's face would've been funny if Harry wasn't so angry. Hermione actually gasped at Harry's words, her hand covering her mouth in silent horror. Harry simply stood there, unyielding. What could he have said that they would've believed anyway, he wondered. Everyone had seen him and Draco in the club last night, and he was sure everyone knew they'd shared a room at the hotel. Besides, if Draco hadn't been so drunk, things probably would've happened the way everyone believed they had, so what else could Harry possibly say? More importantly, he didn't want Draco to think he was ashamed of what had happened between them.

Ron still appeared to be in shock, but Hermione seemed to be recovering. "Harry?" she said tentatively.

Harry looked back at her fiercely, and she seemed to reconsider whatever she'd been about to say. He turned his attention to the rest of the room, and there was a sudden flurry of motion as everyone quickly found something else to do before Harry could direct his wrath upon them as well.

Harry fought to control himself, trying to think clearly. This really wasn't how he'd been planning to spend his Saturday, and he knew that he needed to get out of there before he or Ron ended up saying something they'd regret. With one last glance at his friends, Harry turned and left the room.

* * *

Draco watched Potter go, sinking deeper into the couch in an attempt to make himself invisible. He watched Granger and Weasley stare at each other with identical expressions of dumbfounded helplessness and smirked grimly to himself.

"You shouldn't have ambushed him like that, Ron," he heard Granger say finally.

Weasley sputtered back some incoherent nonsense as Draco glanced at the door, wondering if he could make an escape without anyone noticing. He was beginning to worry that Weasley would see him sitting there and take out his frustration on him. Across the room, Weasley and Granger's argument began to heat up, and Draco took the opportunity to slide the book he'd been reading into his schoolbag and tiptoe out the door.

He let out a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him, then headed for the library. Nobody should bother him there, he reasoned.

He'd been sitting by himself in a far corner of the library long enough to finish his entire Herbology essay before he realized someone had found him after all. Draco looked around frantically for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Groaning softly, he raised his head to face Potter as he approached. Draco had been hoping to avoid having any kind of discussion with Potter about the events of last night, especially after that scene in the common room, but he could tell that Potter felt exactly the opposite, and it seemed this was going to happen whether Draco liked it or not.

He really didn't know what Potter expected to happen now. Sure, it had been fun teasing him earlier, before they'd been faced with reality, but surely, Potter didn't believe that could _last,_ did he? It was over now. Time to stop pretending they could actually live in last night's fantasy world.

Draco waited as Potter pulled out a chair next to him and sat down. "Um, hi," he said, briefly meeting Draco's eyes before nervously picking at his nails, clearly unsure of how to begin.

"Hello, Potter," Draco said evenly, desperately wishing he would get on with it. What exactly did Potter expect from him, anyway? Did he think that last night's indiscretion suddenly meant they were a couple? They hadn't even had sex, for Merlin's sake! At least, he didn't _think_ they had. He was a bit curious as to why Potter hadn't corrected Weasley earlier, but he really didn't want to think about any of that just then. The important thing was that Potter's friends had reacted exactly like Draco had been dreading they would, and Potter must be crazy if he thought it wouldn't affect whatever relationship he seemed to think he and Draco would have now.

"Um, so," Potter started, looking back up at him. Draco waited for him to continue, but he just sat there, looking increasingly awkward.

"So?" Draco prompted him.

"Um. Yeah." Potter gulped, and Draco wondered if he was going to be sick before he could say what he'd come there to say. "Um. Last night . . . you know . . . "

"Yes?" This honestly couldn't be more awkward if Potter had intended it to be. Draco looked around a bit frantically, wondering if there was any possible way he could escape.

Potter slammed his hands on the table in frustration. "Would you stop looking all high and mighty and help me out here? You know I want to talk about what happened last night," he burst out.

"Well, I really _don't_ want to talk about it, so why don't you just go back where you came from and we can pretend this never happened," Draco said coolly.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe it didn't mean anything," Potter returned. "You said you had wanted it for so long. It obviously meant something to you."

Draco was beginning to miss the moments when Potter had barely been able to form a sentence. "I was drunk, Potter," he snapped back. "It didn't mean anything. I don't even remember saying that in the first place."

"I don't believe you," Potter said stubbornly. "You may not remember it, but—" He shook his head. "It wasn't just a drunken accident."

"Potter, what the hell do you even want? Do you think we're going to be boyfriends now just because we got a little drunk and did something stupid? Why can't you just let it drop?"

Their voices must have been rising, because just at that moment, Madam Pince appeared out of nowhere. "If you can't keep it down, you'll have to take this somewhere else," she snapped at them disapprovingly.

After quickly apologizing, they both turned back around to continue glowering at each other, sitting closer now so they could still hear each other.

"Potter, this isn't going to end with a happily ever after like some ridiculous fairy tale. Isn't it obvious to you yet that we can't even be civil to each other for an entire day?" Draco hissed. "Now, if you're done bothering me, why don't you let me finish my homework?"

Potter shook his head. "You didn't hear yourself last night," he insisted. "Stop trying to act like it didn't mean anything."

Unfortunately, Draco really couldn't remember anything he'd said the night before. He remembered dancing with Potter, and kissing him in a dark corner, neither of which were much help at the moment. But none of their conversation seemed to have stuck in his mind.

"Why don't _you_ stop acting like an overly sentimental Gryffindork and making this out to be more than it is?" he returned in the haughty, drawling tone that he knew drove Potter up the wall.

Potter's eyes blazed, and it was only then that Draco realized how close they were to each other. The same thought seemed to strike Potter at that moment, and he blinked, his eyes gleaming with an entirely different sort of fierceness.

"Potter?" Draco tried to maintain his air of indifference, but the way Potter was looking at him ignited something inside him, something that wouldn't be ignored. Before he could say another word, Potter was kissing him, reawakening his memories of the night before with a vengeance. He couldn't have stopped himself from responding if he wanted to, and and he wasn't sure whether the soft moans he was hearing came from Potter or himself.

Potter pulled back enough so that he could look Draco in the eye, and Draco felt the loss of him keenly. "Means nothing, does it?" Potter said smugly.

Draco seemed to be having trouble breathing at the moment, but at least Potter was as well. He wanted to glare back at Potter and prove that he was still completely unaffected, but somehow, he couldn't make his face cooperate.

"And don't think I forgot about this morning, either," Potter went on, lowering his voice in a way that only caused Draco's insides to melt. "The first thing you did when you woke up was kiss me. You even suggested staying another night so we could 'finish what we started.' Why would you do that if you really didn't care?"

Draco was having trouble keeping up with Potter's relentless questions. He opened his mouth to say _something,_ not even knowing for sure what that would be.

"Why didn't you correct Weasley earlier?" he said finally. He immediately wanted to kick himself. Of all the things he could've said, why had he said _that?_

Potter's eyes lit up in sudden understanding. "Of course," he said, more to himself than to Draco. "I should have known." He reached out and gently patted Draco's hand.

Draco wanted to yank his hand away, but he also didn't. "You should've known _what?_ " he said testily. It wasn't fair for Potter to exclude him from the conversation when they were the only ones there.

Potter looked up as if he'd just remembered Draco was sitting there. "What happened to not caring what Ron thinks?" he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "What happened to all your bravado on the way back here?"

Draco was really starting to tire of Potter speaking in riddles. "Potter," he said warningly.

"Oh, calm down," Potter said, holding up a hand placatingly. "Look," he continued, finally turning serious. "Ron and Hermione are my best friends, but they don't dictate my life. I'll spend the night with whoever I feel like, no matter what they think about it. So you can drop the attitude. I'm not going to let them chase you away that easily, so would you just relax and trust me to decide that you're worth it?"

"That's fascinating, Potter," Draco drawled, still trying to appear unaffected. It was all he _could_ do.

Potter simply gave him an exasperated smile. "You wanted to know why I didn't correct Ron earlier," he said. "Do you really think anyone would've believed me if I had?"

Draco knew he had a point, but he really didn't want to help Potter make his argument. He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Potter, silently waiting for him to continue.

Potter rolled his eyes. "Anyway," he went on, "since nobody would've believed it anyway, if I _had_ corrected him, it would've just looked like I regretted it. That I was ashamed of what happened last night. Ashamed of you."

Potter's words were causing a wave of hope to rise inside Draco which was now becoming almost painful. He hated to show so much blatant emotion, but Potter was holding his gaze with an intensity that didn't allow him to look away. Draco swallowed hard. "Well, go on," he said when the silence had dragged on longer than he could stand.

Potter didn't answer him. Instead, he reached out and cupped Draco's face with his hands, then leaned in and kissed him again, gently. Draco's eyes fluttered shut as he let himself get caught up, wishing Potter didn't have this effect on him.

Potter drew away slowly, but one hand remained, lightly caressing Draco's face. He gazed at Draco through heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy smile playing at his lips. "You know, I think you had the right idea," he said. "Since everyone thinks we already . . . you know . . . "

"Had sex?" Draco supplied with a smirk.

"Right," said Potter, coloring slightly. "Well, since they already think that, it kind of seems like a shame that we didn't."

"Yes, it does," Draco said, unable to bring himself to disagree. Besides, he rather wanted Potter to keep going.

"So maybe we _should_ finish what we started," Potter concluded.

Draco's breath caught in his throat. On one hand, Potter made a compelling argument, and Draco really did want to take him up on it. But at the same time, he didn't want to rush into anything. Potter's hand had moved up into his hair, toying lightly with the long, silken strands.

"Potter," he said shakily.

Potter's hand froze in place. "Oh, no," he said. "You don't want to. I'm sorry, I'm being presumptuous. I'll — I'll just—"

Draco exhaled abruptly. "You really are an idiot," he said. And before Potter could react, he leaned forward and kissed him again. Draco tried to pour every ounce of passion he had into the kiss, not wanting Potter to have even a hint of doubt about Draco's feelings. He nipped at Potter's lower lip, delighting in the way Potter's hands clenched in response. His tongue swirled around Potter's, wanting to memorize every detail of him. The delicious moans in Draco's ear encouraged him, making him want to coax even more sounds from Potter.

"Oh!"

Startled, Draco turned to see Granger standing next to their table, looking at least as shocked as he felt.

"Hermione!" Potter had turned to face her as well, but Draco noticed that he hadn't let go of him. "What are you doing here?"

"This is a _library_ , Harry," she said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I was looking for you."

Draco could feel Potter tense beside him.

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier," Granger went on, before Potter could say anything. "I mean, it really wasn't any of our business."

"Thank you," Potter said seriously. "And I would've preferred to talk to you and Ron myself before you had a chance to hear all the gossip, but I woke up later than I intended."

Granger pulled out a chair and sat down across from them. "I talked to Ron. He's still weirded out by the whole thing, but at least he's calmed down. I don't think he meant to shout at you like that, he just doesn't handle surprises very well. I have to admit, I'm a little weirded out myself, but if you're happy, that's all that matters."

Draco looked back and forth between the two Gryffindors curiously. He honestly couldn't tell if Granger was serious or if this was some kind of act for his benefit. Knowing Gryffindors, he was almost inclined to think he could believe her.

"Are you for real?" he heard himself blurt out anyway.

Granger looked up in surprise, almost as if she'd forgotten he was there, then actually smiled, somewhat tentatively, at Draco.

"I like to think we've _all_ grown up since the war," she said. "And it's obvious that everyone has been making a real effort to get along this year. I mean, the fact that you two even snuck out together in the same group speaks volumes."

Next to him, Potter was nodding thoughtfully. "That's true," he mused, nudging Draco with his shoulder. "You haven't been anywhere near as rude and obnoxious as you used to be, even if you _are_ still a prickly, confusing bastard sometimes."

Draco lifted his chin, giving Potter a look of pure disdain. "Yes, and, it's obvious that your sense of humor is still as weak and puerile as ever."

Potter simply laughed, looking back at Draco almost fondly.

Across from them, Granger sighed, a slight smile on her face. "It's also pretty obvious that there's been something going on between you two since the beginning of the year," she said in a resigned tone. "I've just been trying to pretend I didn't see it, hoping it would go away."

Potter shook his head turning to Granger in admiration. "Hermione, is there _anything_ you don't notice?"

Granger chuckled softly. "It's really not that hard to understand people if you pay attention," she said. "Especially when those people tend to be painfully obvious."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't lump me in with him. I'm a Slytherin. Subtlety is our defining characteristic."

She simply smirked at him. "You sure about that, Malfoy?"

Draco was too stunned by the way she was speaking to him to answer. Her tone was mocking, but in a light, friendly way that he was completely unprepared for coming from her. The best he could do was close his mouth and keep from gaping at her outright.

"Anyway," Granger said, standing up. "I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I'm sure you two want to be alone." She gave them a meaningful look that reminded Draco of what she'd interrupted, and walked off.

"I will never understand Gryffindors," Draco said, looking after her in wonder.

Potter laughed, and Draco turned to face him again. For a moment, they simply gazed at one another.

"Well, now what?" Draco said finally.

"Well, we could go back to what we were doing," Potter said, wiggling his eyebrows at Draco and leaning in to kiss him again.

It almost pained Draco to bring his hand up to Potter's chest, stopping him before he could reach his destination. "I _meant_ , what about — well, what about _us_? Are we dating now or what?"

Potter shrugged. "Do you _want_ to start dating? I mean, I kind of got the impression that you at least wanted to — continue things. From last night."

The adorable blush that rose in Potter's cheeks made it that much harder for Draco to resist. He sighed. "I do, but not right _now_. Is that really all you want, or do you want . . . well . . . something more?"

Potter's face broke out in a sudden grin. "Merlin, Draco," he said gleefully. "I never realized you were a romantic."

"I'm not a romantic, Scarhead," Draco said automatically, trying to recreate the superior look he'd given Potter earlier. "Can't you even go five seconds without being ridiculous?"

"Awww, you've already given me a pet name and everything," Potter went on. He reached out and messed up Draco's hair.

"Potter . . . "

"If we're going to be dating, you can at least call me by my first name," Potter said, rolling his eyes.

" _Harry_ . . . " A memory from the night before resurfaced. "You like it when I say your first name, don't you, _Harry_?"

Potter — _Harry_ squirmed. "That's better," he said, sounding a bit uncertain. "So now what? It's Saturday, after all. Did you want to go out or something?"

The thought of going on an actual date with Harry in public, where they would be seen and whispered about by the entire school sounded incredibly unappealing. "What, like, in Hogsmeade?" Draco asked anyway.

Harry immediately looked as uncomfortable as Draco felt. "Well, what else can we do where we'll be alone, besides study?"

Before Draco could answer him, his stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't had anything to eat yet.

Harry smiled. "Maybe we could go hang out in the kitchens for a bit, and see where it goes from there?"

Draco smiled back, feeling relieved. "I'd like that," he said. And, after packing up his things, the two of them left the library and headed down to the kitchens. They still got some funny looks on their way there, but at the moment, Draco couldn't have cared less.

* * *

Harry felt an unexpected sense of contentment as he and Draco made their way to the kitchens. It looked like everything had turned out even better than he'd hoped. The idea of dating Draco gave him a thrill of excitement, and he looked forward to getting to know him better. Harry wanted to see more of the fun, flirtatious Draco he'd been introduced to last night. He wanted to continue to be pleasantly surprised by each new thing he learned about Draco. Harry shook his head in amusement, fully aware of what a sentimental dork he sounded like at the moment, but unable to bring himself to care. Right now, he just wanted to spend some time with his new boyfriend.

Draco tickled the pear, revealing the entrance to the kitchens, then stood aside, allowing Harry to go through first. Harry stepped through the hole, already catching a whiff of treacle tart intermixed with all the other delicious smells in the air. Even with all the house elves around, it seemed like a nice, intimate spot for their informal first date. And maybe later, they could head up to the Room of Requirement and create their own private dance club, where they could finally finish what they'd started the night before, this time without any interruptions. Harry smiled to himself. He never would've believed he would one day look forward to spending time with someone as infuriating, yet compelling as Draco Malfoy, but just then, he wouldn't have it any other way.

 _ **~ fin ~**_

* * *

Thanks for reading and/or reviewing!


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